


The Woman Clothed With Darkness

by FatefulAtropos



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Gen, Movie: Red Dragon (2002), Original Character(s), Post-Red Dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatefulAtropos/pseuds/FatefulAtropos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This short story takes place after the events of Red Dragon. Francis Dolarhyde is dead. But what if his short love story with Reba McClane left some surprise behind it? At this point Reba has to decide what to do... Bring to life a heartbreaking memory or his human part?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 - The Woman Clothed With Darkness

_**THE WOMAN CLOTHED WITH DARKNESS (A Red Dragon Fanfiction)** _

**Part 1 - The Woman Clothed With Darkness**

Disclaimer: Red Dragon and its characters belong to Thomas Harris, not me.

 

Reba was at home, listening to music. She had left hospital a week earlier, and was trying to start living again. Her mind, though, was too full of unanswered questions.

The whole thing that happened was just crazy, unacceptable. Of course, she had accepted Francis’s death; she had accepted that he was an insane murderer. But why, why, out of the billions women in the world, did he have to meet her? And why, in such a short lapse of time spent with him, did she have to fall in love with him?

After all, he had barely spoken to her. How could you fall in love with a man you practically don’t know?

But the most painful feeling was guilt. It was unendurable. She felt guilty for having been so stupid, for having trusted a silent man who had stepped into her life out of the blue to ask her for some infrared film and had found himself compelled to give this poor blind woman a ride home. And in a couple of days they were in bed together. Man, this was crazy. Yet, she couldn’t regret it. Even after learning that he was a ruthless killer, she couldn’t forget that something about him had captivated her into a sphere of charm he probably didn’t even know to have. This love was simply an inscrutable mystery. Still now, she couldn’t think of Francis Dolarhyde the serial killer, the “Tooth Fairy”, the “Red Dragon”, the beast that had killed two perfect, innocent families without any logical reason, and Mr. D, the silent, shy, yet so sweet man that had attracted her so much without never pitying her, as the same person. And this was another thing that made her feel so guilty: she could have saved him. When she was in hospital, that FBI agent, Will Graham, had told her that she didn’t draw a freak, but a man with a freak on his back. She had managed to separate the man from the monster, but the monster had fought to take over…

Anyway, let’s be realistic, she thought. Even if he hadn’t let the monster take over, even if he had stopped killing, even if he had managed to get over his horrible past, what would it have been for? FBI would have found him anyway and put him behind bars forever.

If only his mother hadn’t abandoned him just after his birth… If only his grandmother had been a sweet, fairytale-style grandma instead of the cruel freak she was… Those two bitches… It was their fault… It was them who created the monster.

But it was useless now. Reba could have thought of this as a trauma which would have haunted her sleep for a long time, perhaps forever, if it wasn’t for the tiny, few-cellular half-life that was starting to form inside her.

And here’s another trick destiny had played on her. One night with Francis Dolarhyde, one night of passion, wonder and confusion, had left a surprise. A baby, _his_ baby. Isn't this crazy.

She had already pictured everything: a blind woman, all alone, with child and with a shameful relationship with a criminal behind her… Waves of pity. Man, how she hated pity.

But it wasn’t this rubbish to worry her. Neither was her blindness, it wouldn’t have kept her from raising her baby. Her concern was about the baby itself. Did she really want to become a mother? If so, the baby would soon feel the need of a father figure, or at least know who his/her father was. Then what would she tell him/her? But the worst of questions, the nail that was slowly and constantly piercing her mind was, did she really want to give birth to the fruit of a passion that had broken her heart forever and that was the most painful of memories?

***

“Will. Will! There’s a woman named Reba McClane on the phone, she wants to talk to you,” Molly Graham told her husband.

After hearing Reba’s name, Will winced. In a nanosecond, all the events of the past weeks flowed into his mind; he saw Reba’s face, her short blonde hair with that funny haircut, her big eyes, those eyes so full of terror and melancholy even if they only saw total darkness… And then he saw Francis Dolarhyde’s face, that face distorted by an irrational presence rather than a labial imperfection, a pair of angry yet so suffering eyes…

Molly snapped him out of his thoughts before he could answer the phone.

“Will,” she whispered, “if this call means a need for help, then it means trouble. Just remember we’ve had enough. And anyway we’re leaving.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I know this woman. If she’s called me, it means it’s of vital importance. I’d feel horrible to refuse. Besides, neither do I myself wanna risk to get killed again.”

Molly just watched him go to the phone, wondering when the hell would they leave him alone.

“Hello, Miss McClane?”

“Good morning Mr. Graham, please forgive my disturbing you again after all that has happened…”

“Don’t mention it. It’s happened to you too. How are you feeling?”

“Quite the same as you last saw me. But my hair’s combed now,” she added a tired chuckle. He chuckled too, remembering her messy hair when he had paid her a visit in hospital.

“But I’d better get to the point,” Reba continued, “I’ve called to ask you for a piece of advice. I… well… I just didn’t know…”, here Will heard her voice cracking, “…I didn’t know who to talk to about this…”

“Miss Reba, you don’t have to worry. It’s over. Nobody will hurt you again. I understand that you miss him, it’s perfectly normal. You don’t have to feel guilty or ashamed about your feelings for him. Remember what I told you? You’re the best thing that ever happened to him. Just keep this in mind,” he encouraged her.

“Mr. Graham, I’m… I’m pregnant. No need to tell you who the father is.”

Will winced again. _She’s carrying the child of the Dragon…_ But he quickly drove that shameful thought away. What the hell. The nightmare was over, for Christ’s sake. She was a normal woman, even smarter than any ordinary woman. She didn’t deserve more trouble.

“Oh,” he managed to say after a pause, “Well… Just take this as it actually is. Do you want the baby? I mean, do you think you have the physical and mental strength to raise it? Tell me honestly.”

“This is the dilemma,” she said among sobs, “I’d happily keep this baby if it were for me alone. But it isn’t. This baby is me and D… I mean Francis… Me and him together. When the baby grows, what will I tell him about his father? I hate lies, I hate them even if the truth is so painful…”

“You won’t have to lie. You’ve just said it: this baby is you two together. This means it’s the result of a love story, not of a wrong relationship with a murderer. So, if you feel you can assure your baby a happy life, the darkest part of his father will be dead forever. As for what will you have to tell him, it’s early now to think about it. When your son, or daughter, will have grown enough to know such things, you’ll know what to tell him, and when. You’ll be able to handle this, I’m sure about that.”

“I already love this baby,” she said, “but my worst fear is to ruin everything… And I’d prefer to spare my innocent creature a life of sorrow because of my mistakes…”

“Then you have to choose: if you think this child will bring only nightmares and sad memories, and is already condemned to a difficult life, then you’d better get rid of it, it would be the best thing for the baby and for you. But if you see it as the eternal continuation of one of the happiest moments in your life, then keep it. The baby is the human part of Francis Dolarhyde, the part that has loved you. You regret having not managed to save Francis from the Dragon. With this baby, you have already saved him. You’ll make it. You’re stronger than you think.”

***

Reba chose to keep the baby. She was worried, but also curious. Maybe it would have been difficult, but she chose to start over. After all, she knew why D had become the Dragon. She knew who was guilty.

She felt that if she killed it, her life would never have found peace.

Months later, she gave birth to a healthy, pretty, perfect baby girl. Even if she couldn’t see her, she knew she was beautiful. And for the first time since time immemorial, Reba felt happy.

She named her Frances.


	2. Part 2 - The Girl Clothed With Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18 years later... the inevitable happens.

**Part 2 - The Girl Clothed With Love**

Disclaimer: After 35 years since the novel was published, and after 14 years since the Brett Ratner movie came out, I still don't own Red Dragon and its characters. I only own Frances.

 

_St. Louis, MO, 2002_

Frances McClane was walking back home, carrying some books. That English Literature essay was taking more than she had thought, and her head had started to ache a little.

Luckily, she loved the subject of her essay. Romantic Literature. Actually, she had always been a lover of books: since the day she learned reading, she had been encouraged by her mother to read aloud and with expression, pretending that she was in the shoes of the characters, or the narrator. Only that way she would really understand what she was reading.

This was also one of the strongest bonds she had established with her mother. Expressive reading was a private, extra-dimensional place in which she and her mother would meet beyond the common units of measurement of time and space; a place where they would really, completely see and feel the same things.

Because her mother, Rebecca 'Reba' McClane, was blind since the age of seven.

Although Reba's blindness had never been an obstacle at all in the eighteen years as a mother, and her working life in the dark room of Chromalux Video Lab was nice and peaceful, Frances knew that there was something eating away at her mom.

Actually, Frances had been thinking a lot about what could it be; and the only answer that kept popping up in her mind was about her father.

All Frances knew about her father was that he died in a nasty car accident after a brief but intense love story with Reba; she also knew that she was named after him, and that he was a very shy and silent person. The girl never really insisted in knowing more things because Reba had stated that their relationship had been too short.

Frances had always been a very clever girl, actually smarter than ordinary people; she had understood very soon that her mom didn't like to talk about him, because it made her suffer, and the girl respected that.

But still... What would she have given to know something more about him.

“Mama, I'm home!” she chirped, locking the door behind her and placing the books on a nearby shelf.

“There you are, doll,” Reba said, smiling and reaching out. Frances kissed her on the cheeks, and Reba caressed her face.

Just as though feeling sorry for having been such a bitch to both Reba and Francis, Mother Nature had been incredibly loving towards their daughter. It was just like a redemption, with all its irony. Frances's blue eyes were blessed with the sight of an eagle, her gorgeous upper lip had two perfect, heart-like crests in the center, and her palates formed a smooth vault inside her mouth. No blindness, no cleft lip, no cleft palate, no multiple personality. Frances was as healthy as a goddess, and Reba felt like crying of happiness every time she thought about this gift.

“How's your essay going?” Reba asked. 

“Fine. The subject is lovely. Romantic Literature,” Frances said, slumping on the couch.

“Have you picked a favorite yet?”

“No, but I'm reading these awesome poems by William Blake. The guy was surely a weirdo, but his poems are really something. Hear this.”

As her daughter uttered the name of William Blake, Reba's smile had already faded. But when her daughter started reading 'The Tyger', Reba's face darkened. D had made her a surprise by taking her to the zoo, where she had caressed a magnificent tiger; some hours later, at his place, they had conceived Frances.

“Mom? You okay?”

“Yes, honey. The poem is beautiful.”

“Isn't it? Oh, and our bizarre fella was also one hell of a painter. There is this piece I'm looking at now... It's kinda macabre, but I like it.”

“Could you describe it in a way I can see it too?” Reba said, struggling to smile, her voice trembling.

“Well... There's this curvy blonde woman in a golden dress... She's made of light. The light in the whole painting comes from her, laying at the bottom. Towering over her, there's a gigantic winged creature with a beautifully sculpted masculine body, his color darker and duller. He's way bigger than her, like he could crush her easily... And yet, her light is stronger, and he fails to swallow her into his darkness. This is what I see. Title's 'The Great Red Dragon And The Woman Clothed With The Sun'.”

_God, if you are there, are you fucking kidding me tonight???_ , Reba thought in utter sorrow.

The glass Reba was holding fell to the floor and smashed. The noise startled Frances, who immediately closed the book and got up to help her mother with the pieces.

“Don't move, mom. I got it,” she said, picking up broom and dustpan.

None of Reba's reactions to Blake's works had escaped Frances's eye. Could it be that Mr. Blake had played some important part in the love story that had broken Reba's heart?

***

_Reba..._

_I thought he was gone, but now he's back..._

_Tell her... Tell her the truth, about me... about my Becoming... Set me free. Set us free._

Reba awoke sweating and in tears. Sobbing out D's name. When she calmed down, she felt her bed shift. And the familiar, sweet perfume of her own flesh and blood.

“Mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong?”

“With me? Nothing. Something's wrong with _you_. It's been since forever, and now I've had it. I'm not leaving until you've told me what the hell is it.”

Frances's tone was stern, but not angry. The girl was obviously concerned.

“It's about my father, isn't it? I feel it. Look mom, why don't we both get rid of a burden and talk about it like the big girls we are?”

She took Reba's hand, and their fingers entwined.

_Set me free... Set us free._

Reba took a big breath.

“Your father's name was Francis Dolarhyde. We had been colleagues for a while before we met...”

Reba told Frances everything. Her dating with D, the tiger, their sudden and tragic farewell. And then she told Frances about her father's origins, and the origins of the Dragon that had led him to murder. Frances's heart was racing, her eyes were full of tears, but the girl didn't allow them to stream down.

“As you can see, baby, I still can't manage to talk about your dad and the Dragon as if they were one, because they weren't. Even if they occupied the same body. My only solace, the only thing that got me going, was that he tried to stop for me. I had saved a part of him. And that part gave me you. Your dad never knew, I never made it and tell him...” Reba's voice cracked. “... because when he died, I didn't know I was pregnant yet.”

Frances hugged Reba, still forcing herself not to cry. Her mother had suffered, her father had suffered, too many people had suffered: she had to be strong and not let anything hurt her.

“Aw, mom!” Frances said sweetly, trying to soothe Reba. “You should be proud of yourself. You've put love into a person that had never known it. Besides, if Dolarhyde... if _dad_... didn't manage to get rid of the Dragon, then he's better off dead. His hands were bloody, his record filthy... I think death can be liberating. Now he's free.” A lone, rebel tear rolled down her cheek, but Frances quickly wiped it away.

“I want you to promise me something now, honey,” Reba said with a firm voice. “You must never, _ever_ , think that you were an accident. I have loved your dad with all my soul, and your dad has loved me, even if he lost his battle. You are the fruit of a love story I'll never regret. And just look at you,” Reba smiled between tears, caressing Frances's hair and face. “You have taken the best of me and your dad. Your sight is perfect, your lips are perfect. Just promise me you won't let your soul be haunted.”

“I promise, mom,” Frances said, relieved. “Now, let's get some sleep. We need it.”

They fell asleep together, still holding hands.

***

Frances continued to lead her usual, carefree teenager's life. She actually did feel better, now that all the questions had been answered to.

But there was a tiny part in her heart that was still restless. Maybe it was a selfish whim, maybe it was morbid curiosity taking over... She wanted to _see_ him. She wanted to see the face of the man that had unknowingly given her life. She would have felt incomplete if she hadn't finally given a face, a shape, to Francis Dolarhyde.

Had it been possible, Frances would have gladly traveled back in time and saved him from his hellish childhood, but that was science fiction, and she was no damn super heroine. Nobody could do anything anymore for him.

Still, Frances wanted to know how he looked, so that she could somehow reach him, meet him in her dreams, in another dimension... It may not have made any sense, but she was resolute. She had also decided not to involve Reba, because she felt this was her own personal quest.

So, she started with an Internet research, which turned out to be unsuccessful: once the whole “Tooth Fairy/Red Dragon” case was solved and Dolarhyde was shot to death, Reba and the Chromalux, along with the FBI, had agreed to keep the details in the utmost confidentiality, restricting press reports to the notice that the assassin had been caught and killed. Not even the name of Francis Dolarhyde had been made public. Of course, no photos.

But Frances was a tough girl, and the word 'surrender' was not in her dictionary. She still had a card to play, a tricky one, but she intended to play it. This card had the FBI crest on it.

***

“FBI Central Archive, Joshua Graham here.”

“Yeah, uhm... I wanted to know if it was by any chance possible to have a look at some things relating to a case closed in 1983.”

“That was a while ago. You are going to need a special permission. This is not material for entertainment, you understand. Who am I talking to anyway?”

“My name is Frances McClane, I'm calling from St. Louis, Missouri. Would it be okay as a special permission if I told you I am eighteen years old and I am the daughter of Francis Dolarhyde?”

On the other end of the line, the male voice went silent for some seconds.

“Uh... Are you still there, Joshua Graham?”

“Yeah, sorry... C-can you prove that you are Dolarhyde's child?”

“A paternity test should do, right?”

“Right...”

“So? Look, I'm gonna be honest: I just wanna know how he looked, nothing else. I think I have the right to know what face he had.”

Joshua Graham sighed.

“Can you give me your contact numbers? I'll call you back asap.”

***

_FBI Headquarters, Washington DC_

After receiving a fax confirming that Frances McClane was the child of Francis Dolarhyde and Rebecca McClane and that she had been conceived just days before her father died, Joshua 'Josh' Graham kept his promise and called Frances back. The 28-year-old son of Will Graham remembered Dolarhyde damn well. He remembered the iron grip on his face, and the huge, deadly sharp mirror sliver pointed at his eyes. Fuck, he even remembered pissing his pants out of fear.

And, curiously, by pissing his pants he had saved his and his parents' life.

His father was right. The past keeps returning, no matter what you do, where you go, who you become.

Josh had called Will immediately after talking to Frances, and Will had decided to get her to come to Washington and meet them in person. Will didn't say it, but Josh was sure as hell that his father wanted to meet the young Dolarhyde girl: maybe out of pure curiosity, maybe out of genuine interest... but surely, out of need to be forgiven. Even though Will himself had nearly been killed by Dolarhyde, Josh knew that his father had never found peace after the serial killer's death, and it was because of that damn journal. Will had read Francis's journal, he had discovered his darkest, saddest secrets. Will had met the Dragon, but he had met Francis first. And he had killed him. He had killed a terrible murderer, he had saved families, but he had also killed the girl's father. She knew, Reba had told her, Will had confirmed it; but against their expectations, she said they had done Dolarhyde a favor by giving him peace.

That was the fucking ugly truth about killing. Right for some, wrong for others. And it fucking scarred your soul forever.

When the secretary announced that Frances McClane had just arrived, Will and Josh waited for her at the Archive's entrance. Their hearts raced when the girl, so beautiful in her fresh simple look, appeared and walked towards them.

Frances had her father's golden brown hair, which she wore long in a stylish layered haircut; she also had his deep blue eyes, his sharp nose, and the fine, frowning eyebrows of a pensive gaze. The oval porcelain face, the full gorgeous lips, and the dimples on her cheeks when she smiled at the Grahams were Reba's. She was not very tall, but she was slim and her feminine curves looked perfectly proportioned under her dark blue coat and boot-cut jeans. The girl was definitely Francis Dolarhyde and Reba McClane in their best shape.

“Frances. It's a honor to meet you,” Will said, taking her hand.

“The honor is mine, Mr. Graham,” she said, her voice sweet and polite.

After the brief introduction with the Grahams, they led her to the cabinet labeled “D”; when Josh opened it and Will pulled out the Dolarhyde file, Frances's heart felt like skipping a beat. Will held the file closed in his hands and looked into Frances's eyes.

“You can take a look at the whole file, if you wish. But let me suggest you don't. There are... disturbing things in here. I think you should have the best memory of your father. And what we have here is mainly his worst part.”

“Then _you_ pick his best shot for me,” Frances said, with a sad smile. “And possibly one of his tattoo. That's the only part of the Dragon I want to see, because it was etched into my father's skin.”

Will and Josh were amazed by this stronghold of a girl, so determined, so brave despite the tension, the _tragedy_ of the situation.

Will smiled back, and nodded. Then he opened the file, and flipped through it until he found what he was looking for. A simple photo of Francis Dolarhyde, facing the camera with the serious, deep, inscrutable look he wore everyday. The image of a man in his late thirties. Then, he found a shot from the autopsy, showing only his bare, heavily tattooed back. It didn't look like he was dead, as the bullet wounds were not visible.

When Will handed the two pictures to Frances, he noticed that the girl's hands were trembling and that she was holding her breath.

She looked at the pictures for minutes that felt like centuries, without moving a muscle except her eyes, which darted from one photo to the other. Finally, a smile slowly appeared on her face, happy and sad at the same time. But sorrow took over, and tears ran free on the girl's face.

The last time Frances had cried it had been when she was very little and had grazed her knee. She had cried for some seconds before getting up, eager to continue playing.

Now, each tear burned, each sob sent a crack in her chest, but she finally got rid of all her pain while crying her heart out, held in a warm hug by Josh and Will Graham.

***

Some days later, Frances and Reba went on a trip to a cemetery in Springfield, Missouri.

“Here it is, mom,” Frances said, spotting Francis Dolarhyde's naked tombstone.

Reba and the FBI had arranged a quick burial in his native town after his death; Will had allowed Frances to have Dolarhyde's picture copied and enhanced. One copy was for herself, and one for the tomb. She placed a fresh bouquet of white and red roses on the ground; then, helped by the cemetery supervisors, she had the picture affixed on the tombstone, along with a small marble plate on which a message was engraved:

_“I have defeated the Dragon for you. I love you, Dad. Frances”_

In another part of the cemetery, ruined and choked in filthy weed, the tombs of Marian Dolarhyde Trevane Vogt and her demonic mother lay, long forgotten.

***

Frances McClane Dolarhyde graduated from high school a month later. She then enrolled in medical school, choosing a specialist training in Child Psychiatry. She put her body and soul into radical activism against child abuse, declaring that 'no more dragons must come to life and haunt people'. She regularly kept in touch with the Grahams, who had become her close friends.

Everybody loved her. But the irony was that everybody called her Miss D.


End file.
